


im hiding in all the places you'll never know

by laurencathryn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, HEDWIG DIDNT DIE I REFUSE TO ACCEPT IT, Harry is lowkey missing, Harry runs away for like a year, M/M, Runaway Harry, also harry loves geese, and pancakes, draco and harry unofficially live together, harry loves his little plant, harry-centric because i literally love him, hedwig and harry are adorable, hermione is mean in the first chapter but its ok we love her, this is gonna be a long fic so strap in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25639285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurencathryn/pseuds/laurencathryn
Summary: harry runs away so he can feed the geese.that's it.that's all you get.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	1. I live in a house, not a home.

**Author's Note:**

> guys this is going to be a LONG fic because there is so much that I want to do with it, so please please please let me know in the comments if there is anything you want to see, any ideas for plot/storyline, anything!!!!! I'll go first - I want harry to have a pet snake :))) your turn!

_May 2nd, 1998._

It was over. It was really over. He couldn’t believe it, all those months of searching, all that heartache, only for a battle that lasted shy of a couple of hours. He knows he should make a speech, say something, anything, but he can’t. He’s tired and lost and broken and the only thing he wants to do is leave. But he stays. He’s sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, staring into the empty space ahead of him. The bodies had been moved earlier, burial sites were being found, services being planned for the fallen. Tonks, Lupin, Fred. That was only the beginning, there were so many others. Teachers, students, parents. Mothers and fathers, daughters and sons.

He ignores the voice in the back of his head that blames him, that screams at him that it’s all his fault. That he killed them. He shuts it up and locks it away in the deep dark cupboard in the back of his mind. He can’t bear to go and find Ron or Hermione, someone who he has to talk to, console, congratulate. If he has to give a fake smile and “I’m okay” to one more person he was going to hit something. He absentmindedly rubs the wood of the table, smooth and solid from years and years of hands and elbows being rubbed against it. He leans his head on the table to feel it’s coolness, but his eyes are drooping shut and closing before he even realizes what he is doing. He reckons, later, once he had woken up, that he had probably been a sight. The Saviour of the Wizarding World, sleeping alone at the Slytherin table, covered in blood. After further contemplation, he thinks it might not be too off-put at all.

_June 2nd, 1998, Present time_

He wakes up before the sun and stares up at the ceiling of his room. One month. It’s been one month since the war ended. There’s going to be a celebration today - balloons and laughter and excitement echoing through the walls of the Great Hall. He’s going to be expected to make a speech and talk about all the good that came from the war, the importance of moving on and growing and some other bullshit. Sighing deeply, he gets out of bed and moves slowly over to the window, looking at the brightening sky. He smiles as a group of geese fly over, longing for the freedom and simplicity of flying.

He turns and walks towards Hedwig, who is looking at him with sleepy eyes and ruffled feathers. “You’re lucky to be a bird you know,” He says just above a whisper, gently sliding his finger down her beak. “You get to fly away and into the clouds.” He smiles fondly as she chirrups softly back in response. He glances at the clock on the nightstand and sighs softly when 6:42 glares back at him, all loud and bright with it’s blinking neon yellow colors. Harry doesn’t like loud anymore. He remembers loving the thrill and chaos of quidditch games, the boldness of yelling and being stubborn. But not anymore.

The war was bright and chaotic and loud, and now that it’s over Harry has been living his life as quietly and simply as he can. He closes his eyes when he feels Hedwig’s beak nudge his arm, her own little way of comforting him, telling him that everything will be alright. He forces himself to relax and then opens his eyes. “Come on, girl. Ron and Hermione will be here at eight.” He laughs when she turns his head to the side, a habit that she’s recently taken up out of nowhere. Figuring she was hungry, he held out his arm and called for her, giggling when she hopped from her perch to his arm. Reaching out to stroke her head, he gets hit with a feeling that he had been facing more and more as time went on. Fondness. He reckons he was fond of things before the war, but now after it, he seems to notice things a lot more. He’s fond of the little plant that he grew from a seed Neville had given him. He remembers how happy he was when he noticed the tiny green sprout poking up from the dirt. He’d taken the pot and danced with it, singing a song and laughing as Hedwig hooted from her perch, singing along in her own little way.

He couldn’t imagine his life without the little things he had grown to love in the past couple of weeks. He always starts his day looking out the window and saying hello to the geese that fly by, then taking Hedwig to the kitchen, then checking up on his little plant. Those little things make him happy. So what if he’s not into quidditch anymore as much as Ron? So what if he doesn’t enjoy reading and learning as much as Hermione? His plant and his owl make him happy. The geese make him happy. Screw anyone that hates him for it.

He walks down the stairs gently, holding onto Hedwig’s back in case she might fall. He reckons she doesn’t like the coddling because as soon as they get to the bottom of the staircase she nips his fingers away playfully and gives him a sour look. “Fine then, next time I’ll let you fall.” He says with a smile, ignoring the peck he got in return. Moving into the old kitchen, Harry can’t help but look down the table and think of all the memories he has of it. Order meetings, talking to Sirius, planning his next move with Ron and Hermione. He shakes his head as he walks towards his little plant, happy with its healthy appearance. He lightly strokes one of its leaves, before turning to look at Hedwig who was moving up his arm before finding a place at his shoulder. “We were so naive back then, Hedwig. Thought we could change the world.” She coos back to him in agreement, before tugging on his shirt and breaking the moment with an annoyed huff. He laughs, a sudden burst, and smiles down at her. “I apologize for being a sentimental sap this morning, let’s get you some food.” She hoots happily in response, and Harry busies himself around the kitchen to start breakfast.

He decides today is a pancake day, and after opening the kitchen window and giving Hedwig some treats he starts getting everything together for cooking. In the recent number of weeks he’d realized after helping Molly make dinner one night that he quite enjoyed cooking. She had noticed, given him some recipes to try, and ever since he had been cooking his own meals almost every day. He liked it because it wasn’t like Potions, you could bend and change the measurements and ingredients and still make something delicious. He also loved it because it was messy and fun and because there is something cathartic about getting flour all over your nose, kitchen, and owl. He had just finished the pancakes and was plating them when the floo flashed and Hermione was suddenly tumbling out of the fireplace in the living room. He stood still for a moment, deciding whether to announce his presence or not when suddenly her voice came from the doorway.

“Morning Harry! Are you ready for -” she paused when she walked into the kitchen, and Harry laughed at her face as she took in the mess on the counter. “Harry, what did you do?” She asked finally, a disapproving look on her face. “Morning ‘Mione, I made pancakes!” He said happily, holding out the pancakes he had just finishing plating. She frowned as she looked at the pancakes, to him, to Hedwig on his shoulders, to the pancakes again. “Would you like any?” He said innocently, taking a bite out of the top one in the stack. “I’ll pass,” she said with a tight smile, and Harry couldn’t help but feel a little hurt by her dismissal.

“Okay, more for Hedwig and me.” He took another bite from his pancake and jumped onto the counter, smiling when Hedwig made her way into his lap and took a tentative bite from one of the pancakes. He didn’t think much of it, even tearing off another little piece for her to have, but was stopped by Hermione who whipped the plate out of his hands and put it on the table out of his reach. “Honestly, Harry! She can’t eat that, she’s an owl! And look at her feathers, you’ve got the batter on them!” She said this icily, raising her wand and scourgifying the counter, Hedwig, and Harry himself with one flick of her wand. She turned and glared at him, before looking at Hedwig with something akin to pity. “Have you even let her outside yet?” she said coldly, and at Harry’s hesitation, it soon turned to anger. “You’re basically starving her, Harry! You think that getting her dirty and not letting her eat is okay because what, you want to cuddle?” She said as she motioned to Hedwig sitting in his lap, who was staring up at her with frightened eyes.

Harry was shocked, to say the least, and felt his temper flare at the accusations that he wasn’t taking enough care of what was easily his most favorite thing in the entire world. “Hermione, I’m not starving her! She knows that she can go get food whenever she wants! I left the window open last night, has it occurred to you that maybe she’s already eaten?” He stared at Hermione, not understanding where the sudden anger came from. He barely registered the floo flaring again and Ron stumbling into the living room, too caught up in his confusion. He looked up as Ron walked into the kitchen, and watched as he evaluated the situation. Ron cleared his throat and walked over to the table, his eyes moving between Harry and Hermione. “Morning, Harry. Hermione,” he said as he nodded to them, waiting for someone to reply. Harry was about to respond when Hermione suddenly stepped towards him, causing Hedwig to squawk in alarm. “Harry, give me the bird.” She said expectantly, not noticing the shock on both Ron and Harry’s faces. Harry instinctively put a hand around Hedwig, relieved when she scooted closer to his chest. He set his face and looked back at Hermione. “No.” He watched as Hermione scoffed, before turning to Ron and asking for backup. “Ron, tell Harry to give me Hedwig.” Ron looked between them, torn on what to say, before clearing his throat again. “Why?” He said softly, not wanting to be the object of Hermione’s wrath. Hermione laughed darkly, before moving closer to Harry until she was a foot away from him. “Harry, give me the bird. I’m not asking.” She held out her hand expectantly, waiting for him to simply give up Hedwig. He shook his head and looked up at her, annoyed at this point.

“You’re not taking my bloody bird, Hermione. Drop it.” He said this hotly, and deciding he had had enough of her behavior, he dropped down from the counter, holding Hedwig in his arms tightly, and began to walk out of the room. Or, he would have, if Hermione hadn’t grabbed his arm and began reaching for Hedwig herself. He whipped away from her just as she had gotten hold of one of Hedwig’s wings, and all three of them watched as a patch of feathers fell to the ground, lost in the struggle. Harry felt his heart drop to his stomach, and he looked down at Hedwig who was furiously trying to preen her wing back to normal. She was so small and frantic and scared in his arms, and Harry just looked at Hermione in shock. Hedwig was his, she was the one thing he had sworn to protect, to love. And now he’d gone and failed. Hermione touched his arm lightly, looking at him with tears in her eyes. “Harry, I -” she started pleadingly, but Harry simply shook his head, keeping his eyes on Hedwig.

Hermione looked as though he had struck her, but she kept going. “Harry it’s just that, well you know what today is, I had a temper because I woke up late and Mum has just been crazy these past weeks, I didn’t mean to...” she pleaded softly, tears overflowing onto her cheeks now. “I didn’t mean to hurt her Harry, I just meant to let her outside. You have to believe me!” Her voice was almost begging now, and she reached out a hand to stroke Hedwig, startled when Harry turned away from her, shielding Hedwig from her touch. Harry was too upset, too worried about Hedwig to even function. “Don’t touch her,” he said tightly, raising his eyes to Hermione’s. She stepped back quickly, raising her hands in surrender. “Harry I’m so sorry,” She repeated again, looking smaller than he ever remembered her being.

Harry turned his head as Ron slowly came up to them, looking cautiously to Hermione, him, then Hermione again. “She didn’t mean it mate,” He started slowly, probably hoping to deescalate the situation. “Besides, it’s just a bird.” Harry felt his face heat immediately at Ron’s statement, feeling the anger built up hotly in his chest. “Just a bird?” He said cooly as he met Ron’s gaze from where he was standing behind the Kitchen table. He watched as Ron hesitated, looking at Hermione for help. When Hermione gave no response, he stepped closer to Harry and made a move to grab his shoulder, which he quickly ducked away from. He ignored the hurt look on Ron’s face, too caught up in his frustration with the situation to really care. The silence in the kitchen was deafening. When it was made clear that Ron wasn’t going to respond, if staring blankly at a cabinet could be seen as a response, Harry snapped.

“Look,” He said, looking at both Hermione and Ron, trying to get their gazes away from where they were so interested staring at the floor, “Today is supposed to be a happy day and I don’t want to ruin it with some childish fight.” He looked at Hedwig as she ruffled her feathers in his arms, feeling the irritation at Hermione come back in tenfold. “Hermione, I get that you had a bad morning but if you ever grab Hedwig like that again I’m not going react quite so kindly. She’s mine and if she wanted to go outside she would go. She’s a bloody owl who can fly, not some pygmy puff.” He felt only slightly bad when Hermione’s eyes filled up with tears yet again, but his concern for Hedwig outweighed it by a load. Hermione nodded as he looked directly at her, opening her mouth to say what he assumed would be the seventh apology of this morning. He shook his head at her, before moving across the room and grabbing his cold plate of pancakes. He was about to go and sit down at the kitchen table to eat them when his eyes caught his little plant sitting on the windowsill.

It was only about as tall as his littlest finger, but every day it stretched up as high as it could, almost like it was showing off to him how big and strong it was getting. Suddenly, Harry was hit with a realization. What the hell was he doing here in this haunted, dirty house with nothing that held him there? Looking at Ron and Hermione, who were talking softly in the corner now at the kitchen table, he realized with a start that he had nothing to stay for. The furniture in his room wasn’t even his, he had no idea who the people in the portraits were, and the two people that came and visited him would eventually leave and go to their own homes. Harry didn’t live in a home. He lived in a house. He was stuck in a haunted house with his bald-winged owl, tiny little plant, cold pancakes, and two people who he thought knew him better than anyone.

Feeling suddenly suffocated in the house, Harry did the only thing he could think of.

He left.

Telling Ron and Hermione he was going to the bathroom, he grabbed his plant from the windowsill, his pancakes from the kitchen counter, and ran up the creaky old stairs to his room. Feeling a bit euphoric all of a sudden, he smiled widely as he grabbed his trunk from under his bed and dumped everything out on top of it. Looking around his room, he found that there wasn’t much that he really needed. He grabbed his clothes from the closet, a couple of pairs of shoes, his alarm clock, Hedwig’s things, the snitch from Dumbledore, and his picture album from Petunia. Besides a small number of other things, that was all Harry Potter took with him when he disappeared from the Wizarding World. Feeling extremely light for some reason, he cast a muffliato around his room to mask his apparition. He tightened his hold on Hedwig, grabbed his little plant and the plate of pancakes, and shrunk his trunk so it fit in his coat pocket. Shutting his eyes, he concentrated on the first place that came to mind, before spinning and disapparating with a pop.

That was the last time he saw his friends in over a year.


	2. Childhood Coffee Shops

He stumbled slightly when his feet hit the pavement, wincing at the bright sun that was shining in the sky, a stark contrast to the musty darkness of Grimmauld Place. He looked around, not quite sure where he had apparated to at the moment. Taking in his settings, he was surprised to see that he was in muggle London. He seemed to be in some sort of marketplace area, people milling about with shopping bags and groceries, too caught up in their own lives to notice him. Not that he minded. 

He found himself struggling to remember what the memory was that he had of this place, he reckoned he must have visited with Aunt Petunia at some point during a grocery run. Distracted by a little boy running with a bouncy ball, he found himself looking at a little coffee shop down the street away from him, and he suddenly knew where he had remembered this place from. Years ago, when he was probably only 8 or 9, Aunt Petunia had taken him out Christmas shopping for Dudley and Vernon under the pretense that he was to hold all of the bags when they were walking around from shop to shop. After they had finished and gathered all their presents, she had taken him into the little coffee shop so she could get a coffee and a bite to eat. He remembers it smelling better than anything he’d ever smelled before, and he had been entranced by the cozy atmosphere it provided. In an unexpected bout of kindness, Aunt Petunia had bought him a hot chocolate, and they had sat and drunk their beverages at the back table, right next to the fireplace. It was the happiest and safest memory he had of his whole entire childhood. Harry guessed that was why he ended up here rather than anywhere else. 

Walking towards the coffeeshop, Harry cast a notice-me-not charm on himself and Hedwig, not wanting to gain unwanted attention. It wasn’t like you saw someone with an owl on their shoulder every time you went out for tea. Opening the door to the coffee shop, Harry was suddenly hit with the soothing smell of coffee and pastries, and he felt his stomach tighten with hunger. Looking at the plate of pancakes in his hands longingly, he stepped up to the counter and asked in his kindest voice if he could possibly sit at a table and eat the food he had brought with him, gesturing to his pancakes. The girl at the counter seemingly took pity on him and told him she would allow it if he ordered a beverage as well. Smiling brightly, he quickly ordered a hot chocolate and made his way to the back of the coffee shop, too distracted on looking for the table he had shared with Aunt Petunia all those years ago to take any notice to those around him. Finding it quickly, he smiled softly as he sat down in the exact place he had as a boy, relishing in the heat from the fireplace beside him.

He placed his little plant on the table in front of him, and gently lowered Hedwig down onto it as well. He took a look at her wing and was glad to see there was no bleeding or obvious injury of any sort, only a bald patch of skin by her shoulder. He lightly stroked her feathers, feeling the need to reassure her in some way that everything was alright, content when she hooted softly back at him before hopping over to the plate of pancakes before them, taking a cautious glance around to make sure it was alright to take a bite. Harry laughed, and after quickly casting a heating charm on the food, he took a pancake off the plate and gave it to Hedwig to peck at. “There’s no Hermione here to yell at you, girl. Eat as many as you like.” Content that Hedwig was situated, he looked around the table for a fork, and when there wasn’t one, he decided upon merely eating it with his hands. Who cares if it wasn’t proper, food was food and he was hungry. 

Effectively having tuned out the rest of the people around him, he merely gave a muffled ‘thank you’ as his hot chocolate was placed beside him, a mouthful of pancake prohibiting him from properly pronouncing the words. He was surprised when immediately after that a body slid into the chair across from him at his table, but that quickly turned into annoyance as he speculated who it was. Fully expecting to see Hermione or Ron across from him, he huffed and looked up with a fed-up expression on his face, choking on his pancakes when it indeed, was not Hermione or Ron looking back at him. Draco Malfoy in all his smug glory was sitting across from him at his table, in a coffee shop in muggle London, on the one month anniversary of the war. To say he was shocked would be an understatement. Draco merely raised his eyebrows as he watched Harry try to cough up the food that had gotten lodged up in his throat, and merely pushed his hot chocolate towards Harry, gesturing with his eyes that he take a sip. Picking up the cup and sipping it down, Harry was relieved to find he could breathe again without pancake in his airway. 

Putting his cup down hesitantly, he looked up at Malfoy, who merely rolled his eyes. “Are you quite done yet?” He said calmly, acting like this was a common occurrence and that they were sitting down for their weekly tea date together. Unable to form words Harry merely nodded in answer, looking at Malfoy with a suspicious look on his face. He tensed slightly as Malfoy raised his hand to pet Hedwig, putting his head down in shame when Malfoy’s hand paused in the air and he gave him a curious look. He watched as Malfoy looked at him, back to Hedwig, back to him again. He winced as Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Hedwig’s wing, giving him a look that Harry couldn’t decipher. “What happened to your bird?” Malfoy asked softly, eyes drawn to the empty patch on Hedwig’s shoulder. Harry hesitated before answering, not knowing if he wanted to be buddy-buddy with Draco Malfoy of all people. Figuring 1) he didn’t really have any friends at the moment and 2) Malfoy hadn’t killed him or made fun of him yet, he decided to tell him. 

“I got in an argument with Hermione, and well…” He trailed off and looked at Hedwig, who was happily pecking and scratching at the pancake Harry had given her. Malfoy scoffed and raised his eyebrows, looking at him with an indignant expression. “So she decided to pluck your bird? What, was she planning on cooking her for an apology dinner?” 

Despite his caution at sitting at a table and being completely friendly with Draco Malfoy of all people on the one month anniversary of the war, he laughed. “No, she tried to grab her and let her outside.” His amusement quickly faded as he thought back to when it happened. “She thought I wasn’t taking good enough care of her because I got pancake batter on her feathers.” He watched as Malfoy stared at him for a long moment, before raising his eyebrows and sighing. “Do I want to know why you had pancake batter of all things on your bird?” Harry merely nodded to the plate of pancakes that Hedwig was currently standing on, her feet making indents in the pancakes as she happily pecked away at them. “I wanted some breakfast is all.” He said matter of factly, before pulling out a pancake from under Hedwig, laughing as she squawked indignantly at him. He tore it in half and took a bite from one of the pieces, and laughed when he looked up at Malfoy. 

He was looking at him with a disgusted expression, looking at him to Hedwig, to the pancake grease dripping down his wrist. “You just ate a pancake… that your bird was standing on and also eating?” He said slowly, almost as if trying to understand a difficult math equation. Feeling a bit offended, Harry picked up Hedwig and put her on Malfoy’s hand, ignoring his and Hedwig’s matching shrieks of indignance. “What? She’s clean.” He said with a smirk as he watched Malfoy try to shake Hedwig off of him. He stopped suddenly, staring at Harry with a curious expression. 

“It’s the one month anniversary of the war.” He said bluntly, staring at Harry from across the table. Harry nodded through a bite of pancake, swallowing a large chunk before talking. “Yeah, I guess it is.” 

“Then why are you here, at” He paused, looking at the watch that Hedwig was currently pecking at, “8:30 in the morning?” Harry then felt himself still, knowing that he was about to be exposed for his impromptu disappearance. “Everyone involved with the celebration ceremony had to check-in by eight” Malfoy continued, his expression turning accusatory. 

“I’m not going.” He said suddenly, looking down at the table so he wouldn’t see Malfory’s expression of anger, disappointment, vindication. What would Malfoy think, the savior of the Wizarding world, bailing on what was basically his own party. He waited for a response, but when he didn’t get one he looked up at Malfoy and was met with a calculating expression. 

“You had a fight with your best friends, you bought your plant and owl to dine for tea, you have a shrunken trunk in your coat pocket, and now all of a sudden you aren’t going to the biggest celebration in the Wizarding World for a century where you’re the guest of honor?” He paused, before suddenly sighing deeply and leaning back in his chair. 

“You’re running.” He said matter of factly. Looking at Harry with an expression that basically said try and tell me otherwise. Harry opened his mouth to tell him that no, that was absolutely not what he was doing, but before he could get a word out Draco merely raised his eyebrows at him, and Harry accepted defeat. Sighing as deeply as Malfoy did, Harry looked down at the table and softly stroked the little leaf on his plant. “Yeah, I am.” 

“Okay.” 

Harry looked up at Malfoy, who was just looking at him with an even expression, and finally just said screw it. Damn right he was going to leave. He was going to make himself a home with his owl and little plant, and he was going to watch the geese for as long as he wanted, make pancakes as often as he wanted, and he was going to be happy. 

“Okay.” He said softly, smiling a little bit as he realized what he just committed to. He was going to be happy. He was going to be free. 

He looked up at Malfoy, who was looking at him with an amused expression, and it merely served to egg on his own excitement. “I’m going to buy a house in a small muggle neighborhood. Not a flat, a house. A real house with a garden and a pond and a huge balcony.” His smile widened as he thought of everything that he could have. “I could live next to a field where there would be lots of geese and I could wake up every morning to feed them.” He laughed with joy as he saw Hedwig start to bounce with excitement as well, obviously loving the plan. He leaned back in his chair and just smiled so wide he thought his mouth would rip in two. 

“Potter,” Malfoy started slowly, leaning forward in his chair with a serious expression. “That is the most absurd and reckless thing I have ever heard in my life.” Harry felt his happiness take a blow as his words sunk in. It was only for a second though, before Malfoy’s face broke out into a small smile and he laughed. “But I think it’s also the most wonderful thing too. Who knew, Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, living in a muggle neighborhood to feed the geese.” He laughed again and shook his head, settling back down into his chair. “If I were any crazier I’d say how much I’d love to come with you. Gardening all day in a huge greenhouse, adopting a ton of birds to fly around and keep me company. Getting a car and learning to drive.” He sobered and looked at the table, a look of longing taking over his face. “It sounds like heaven.” 

Looking at him, Harry was suddenly filled with that feeling again. Fondness. It wasn’t because of anything weird he told himself, just that Malfoy was a kid, just like him, who just wanted to get away and live his dreams. That’s when it hit him. Making the split-second decision that may or may not change his life, he looked up and asked the question that would cause the biggest changes in his life over the next year. “Come with me.” 

He made eye contact with Malfoy when he looked up at him, his eyes full of caution, but most importantly, hope. “We don’t have to love another or be friends, we don’t even have to tolerate each other half the time. If you want to come with me, then let’s go. We can share payments on a house and get a lot of property. You can have your greenhouse, I can have my pond, and we can just live without anything holding us back. I won't tell anyone where you went, and you won't tell anyone about me either. We can disappear." 

He watched as Malfoy hesitated, before shaking his head. “My mother, the manor, school next year” He trailed off, obviously torn between many things at once. 

Figuring he ought to get a move on to go into his new life, Harry nodded towards Hedwig and brought his eyes back to Malfoy. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” He grabbed his empty pancake plate, his little plant, and Hedwig, before standing up and pushing his chair in behind him. “It was nice talking to you Malfoy. But if anyone else asks, I was never here.” He said this with a smile before turning tail and walking out of the little coffee shop. 

He had a new life to begin. 

  
  



End file.
